


Dementale

by IvyBel



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dementale AU, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Horror, I guess this is horror?, i guess, it gets better in later chapters i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:49:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyBel/pseuds/IvyBel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, certain things are best left forgotten.</p><p>That doesn't mean they are.</p><p> </p><p>Welcome to the Underhill estate, kid.</p><p>God can't help you now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeeello friends! I don't know about you, but I'm rather excited! This is my first 'Undertale Fanfiction,' and the first thing I'm using my Dementale AU with! I might make a list of characters and their names and stuff after this story, but for now you're stuck with this.
> 
> Also, please keep in mind, this 'introduction' probably isn't very good, I'm hoping the rest of the story will be better, stay with me here!
> 
> Enjoy, I hope!

Long ago, there was a wealthy family: the DREEMURRS. 

  


One day, fire broke out in the house, killing everyone. 

  


After a few months, strange things started happening inside. 

  


The Church sealed the demons inside the house. 

  


MANY YEARS LATER, IN THE YEAR 19XX…. 

  
  
  


A small child tried to think of riddles, puzzles, paradoxes, ANYTHING to distract them from the dark forest they were currently walking through. At night... 

  


Ooh! Here’s one! If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? 

  


… 

  


That didn’t help at all. 

  


The child started to sigh, which turned into a whimper. They really hoped a tree didn’t actually fall… 

  
  


The child was hopelessly lost, which wasn’t exactly unexpected, seeing as they were in Ebott Woods. It was said people that came into there never returned. They didn’t even know why they went in, it was just because of a stupid, stupid dare to prove they weren’t a “complete scaredy cat.” 

  


A bird hooted in the distance, causing the child to jump and stifle a scream. They were always jumpy, but was even more jumpy at this moment because of the scary trees whose branches looked like arms...and the shadows that seemed to bend towards them...and the old creepy mansion in the distance… 

  


Wait, mansion? 

  


The child hurried their pace for a few steps, instinctively hiding behind a tree and peering out towards where they had thought there had been a house. 

  


And, indeed, there was. 

  


It was an old looking house, and was all but steady on it’s foundation. It looked...oh, what was the word? Victorian? 

  


Whatever time period it was built in, it certainly didn’t look like a place the child wanted to go in at all. 

  


But as the forest got darker and the trees started to to close in around them, the child realized that maybe going in wasn’t such a bad idea. 

  


They ran towards the house, almost tripping on a root in their haste, which almost made them cry out. They were going to get to that house, call their parents, and get out of these woods. They didn’t care what the other children were going to say or what the other children would call them, they could handle it. Anything was better than being in this cursed forest. 

  


The child reached the door, and hesitated. The moss and rot were clearer than they were from afar, and the child began to wonder if anyone even lived here. 

  


Maybe they were the reason no one ever returned. 

  


The child turned to leave and took a few steps, then scolded themselves for being so scared and frightened of something they didn’t even know to be true. 

  


Slowly, the child walked back up to the door, breath caught in their throat. Despite the talk that they had given themselves, they were still frightened of whoever would want to live in a house such as this. 

  


They knocked on the door, and it creaked open. 

  


The child thought that was a bit odd, who would leave their door open like that? Maybe they were home… 

  


Despite their best judgement, the child peeked through the opening and then creeped in. “Hello?” They called out, hoping for a response. 

  


But there wasn’t one. 

  


Maybe they just needed to be louder, yes, that was it. The child walked in a bit more. 

  


“He--” 

  


SLAM! 

  


The child cried out at the sudden loud noise, and quickly turned around. The door was closed completely now. 

  


They ran up to it, and tried to open it. 

  


Nothing. It wouldn’t open. 

  


The child pulled at the door, tears prickling at their eyes. No no no no no no! This couldn’t be happening! 

  
  


The child’s pulling weakened, until finally the child wouldn’t have been able to open the door even if it could be opened. They sunk to the ground in partial shock. They were trapped. 

  


“Ahem.” 

  


The child head snapped up. That was a voice, wasn’t it….? 

  


“Are you done?” 

  


There it was again! It sounded like it came from the top of the stairwell! The child turned towards the source of the voice. 

  


They screamed. 

  


“Howdy!” 


	2. Flowey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look who finally updated! Yep, it's me! I actually had this mostly written out for a long time, but then I got a bit busy. I'm out of school now though, so hopefully I'll be able to update this faster from now on! As you will see, this chapter has the first major deviation of character in terms of design (and I do mean major), and the first major deviation in plot, which I won't explain, because if I told you what was going to happen in each chapter you wouldn't need to read it, now, would you? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The child scrambled against the door, trying to get as far away from that thing as possible.

 

There was a monochrome colored jester with a mask hanging by his legs from the railing. His arms hung down loosely.

 

But that wasn’t what made the child scream.

 

The jester had several yellow flowers sticking crudely out of his body, each bleeding profusely. Thorny vines grew crookedly out him, having wrapped tightly around different parts of his body, embedding the thorns and making the thorns almost as much a part of him as the vines were.

 

The mask wasn’t attached to anything. There wasn’t anything else there.

  
  


“Ahahaha, that was a loud noise you made!” The jester laughed. The mask seeming to morph unnaturally as he talked, causing the child to whimper and futilely attempt to get further away.

 

The jester jumped down from the railing and walked up to the child, puddles of blood forming on the floor as he walked, the mask’s grin looking unnatural and hollow. He held out a gloved hand towards the child, who shrunk away and buried their head in their legs as the blood from his hand dripped very close to the child.

 

“I’m Flowey! Not much for hand shaking, huh?”

 

The child shook their head quickly and shakily, anything to get this thing away from them.

 

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Flowey remarked, not sounding remorseful at all. If anything, the mask’s grin somehow widened.

 

“You’re new to Underhill, aren’t you? Hahaha, you must be so confused!”

 

Confused wasn’t even close to the word to describe what the child was feeling at that moment.

 

The mask seemed to almost frown at the human’s lack of eye contact.

 

“It’s rude to not look at people and just sit there and shake while they’re talking to you, y’know,” Flowey admonished, an annoyed twinge to his voice.

 

Suddenly Flowey grabbed the child’s arm, pulled them to their feet, and twirled them around so that he was behind them, the mask inches from the child’s ear.

 

_ “Someone ought to teach you how things work around here.” _

 

The child cried out in fear, Flowey’s grip was surprisingly strong, and his manner was becoming more obviously malicious.

  
  


_ “I guess little old me will have to do~!” _

  
  


The child gasped in sudden pain. Their neck…!

 

Flowey pulled the vine harder, cutting off more oxygen and digging the thorns deeper into their neck.

 

Blood started to appear and roll down their neck. They weakly pulled at the vine, impaling their hands with thorns and causing more blood to travel down their arms and soak into their dark blue sweater.

 

“Aw, don’t struggle, it’s not becoming,” Flowey laughed sadistically, moving the vine to the right slightly, cutting open the skin.

 

Now the child’s tears were mixed in with the blood. “P-please, s-stop…”

 

Flowey loosened the vine in surprise for a moment, before recovering and tightening his grip again.

 

“So, the prodigal child can speak! Excellent!” The flowery jester jeered, trying to pretend that little slip up never happened.

 

“P-please…” It was getting harder for the child to talk, but they continued to sob regardless.

 

“Hahaha, you’re an idiot! Maybe if you stopped moving it wouldn’t hurt as much!”

  
  


_ “Don’t you see? In this place, the only rule is to die or be dead.” _

  
  


Flowey twisted the vine more, grinning as more blood started to soak into his gloves as well.

  
  


Wait, what was that?

 

Flowey quickly loosened the vine and covered the child’s mouth in an attempt their crying. When it didn’t work, he hissed, “Shut up, or I’ll rip your head off.”

 

The crying grew quieter, and Flowey strained to listen.

 

Those sounded like…

 

Footsteps.

 

“Damn,” Flowey muttered. “It’s the Mistress.”

 

The jester let go of the vine, letting it fall to the floor.

 

“Now listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once,” He hissed in the child’s ear. “Do you see that hallway? I’m about to let go of you, and you’re going to run down that hallway and you aren’t going to stop running until you reach the end. Understand? I’m doing this to save my own skin, not yours, so if you don’t run, I don’t care.”

 

“But if you do want to save yourself, by any chance, that’s your best shot. Get it?”

 

The child started slowly nodding, which turned into quick nodding when they finally processed what he was saying.

 

“...right. Three...two...one…” Flowey let go, and the child dashed into the hallway, while the jester himself ran the opposite way. The child thought they saw a purple figure at the top of the stairs as they ran towards the hallway, but was too scared and panicked to look further and kept running, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in their neck.

 

 

 

 


	3. Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo boy! A bit of a story behind this one; this has been sitting on my Drive for months, all typed up but never edited in the slightest, and the reason for that? I sort of lost my enthusiasm for this story. I still liked my AU, and the concept and characters, but the story? It seemed...I dunno, bad? I felt it lacked something. When school started and I told my friends about Dementale though, they seemed to really like it and enjoy it, and I thought maybe I could do this again. Now, don't think I've been busy those 3-4 months, oh no, I've been perfecting my craft. Those baby 600 and 700 word chapters? Psssh, not anymore! They're only going to get longer and better from here! Consider those last few chapters the intro and tutorial to the story, now we're getting into the real stuff! I can't exactly promise lots of updates, these chapters are going to take time to write and edit and I've recently released a comic that I'm going to be working on, but don't think I've forgotten about this! I've definitely got my passion back, and from this chapter on things only get worse for little Frisk! Stay tuned, and your patience will be rewarded. Enjoy!

After a while the child stopped running, mostly out of exhaustion rather than thinking they were safe. In fact, they were still completely terrified that Flowey might come after them when the coast was clear, or worse. Their breath came out in frantic pants, making it harder for them to take in all the air that they needed. They wanted to collapse, but their will to live somehow kept them moving even though everything else was screaming at them to stop, maybe even this god forsaken house itself.

****

The blood coming from their neck had mostly dried up and clotted, but there was a bit of blood and pus still oozing from the wounds. The pain had subsided to a dull ache, and the child tried not to think about it too much for fear of making it worse. The top part of their dark blue sweater now had a dark red color mixed into it, making it a slight purple shade. It felt soaked.

****

The child found themselves in a long hallway, the only light being emitted from wall mounted lamps, some of which didn’t even seem to work. They couldn’t see the end of it. They couldn’t even see that far in front of them. The red floral wallpaper was old and was slowly peeling off the walls,  and the floorboards were creaky and seemed unstable, like at any moment they would give way and the child would fall to their death. It reminded the child of a haunted house, which might’ve been funny, had the child not hated haunted houses with a passion and the fact that this wasn’t a haunted house. Haunted houses were fake, this was certainly not.

****

The child weighed the options. Going back seemed like a bad idea. Anything bad enough to scare the monster that had terrified them so didn’t seem like something they wanted to meet at all.

****

They finally decided to press on.

****

The floorboards creaked under the pressure of every step, and the child was painfully aware of how loud it was, and the fact it seemed to be the only sound in this entire house. It was like everything had stopped to listen. This thought was not reassuring in the slightest.

****

The hallway was sparsely decorated, though it seemed based on the painting hooks imbedded in the walls as if there were once many pictures hanging the walls. Now there were few and far apart, and the child couldn't figure out if the blank walls were better or worse. The few portraits that were there seemed the follow the child with their eyes, and the child hurried past them gladly, but the lack of made the hallways somehow seem even more cramped and claustrophobic.

****

They stopped at one, partly to look at it, mostly to listen out to hear if there were any other noises. There weren’t. As for the painting, it was really nothing special, just a landscape. It was of mountains, and used lots of reds, yellows, and oranges. It looked as if it was dripping, such an odd painting choice.

****

The child moved on.

****

They passed a china vase on a pedestal, but didn’t stop to look. It was dusty, unremarkable, and not their biggest worry right now.

****

No, their biggest worry began when the lights flickered.

****

The first time it happened, the child squeaked like a scared little mouse and froze, glancing around, not sure what they were looking for but sure it was something bad. When the coast seemed clear and everything seemed relatively alright, the child began walking again.

****

The second time it happened, a few steps later, the child stopped again. They were getting very nervous now. Something was there, they just knew it. What were supposed to do…?! From the silence behind them came a constant thumping so quiet the child might have missed it if they weren’t on alert already. It stopped as soon as it had started.

****

The child slowly turned around, half expecting to see Flowey’s smug grin right before finishing what he started.

****

Instead there was nothing. Nothing was there but darkness and the silence that hung in the air like a veil around the child, though it was too thin to protect them from anything.

****

The child was shaking again without realizing it. What had they gotten themselves into…? This house...this damn house...

****

They took a deep breath. It was nothing, just...just the wind or something.

****

The child turned and started walking again before they could think about the many ways that was impossible.

****

They hadn’t gone far when the lights flickered for a third time and there was a loud crash. The child let out a startled cry and whipped around, expecting the worst.

****

The vase they had walked past before was on the ground broken, its various china pieces scattered around on the floor.

****

The child wanted to find somewhere to hide and curl up, but there was nowhere. Only more hallway. Only forward and back.

****

They decided forward was a safer choice than back.

****

The child walked quickly, really not wanting to run into whatever had knocked that vase over. A few loose tears slipped out of their eyes, but they didn’t wipe them off, not wanting to close their eyes for even a second. How had they managed to end up here of all places? They knew they had bad luck, but this...this was on a whole new realm of what they had experienced. All sorts of irrational fears  the child had and once had now surfaced with the knowledge they were probably quite possible here and could torment the child once more. What if the hallway was a dead end? Maybe Flowey sent them this way knowing that, so he could come for them later. Anything could happen.

****

They could die.

****

That realization hit them hard. They had known it in the back of their mind, and it had driven them forward from the sidelines, but they had never given it much thought until this moment. They could die here. They could die, and no one would ever know. The thought was crushing, and they choked back a sob.

****

They didn’t want to die.

****

The child had almost stopped walking. No, they didn’t want to stop walking at all costs. No, no, they weren’t going to stop. The child tried to calm down. They were somehow going to get out of here. They had to. Right, left, right, left, right, left, ri--

****

Their pace screeched to a halt, the child recoiling their foot in horror, trying not to look down what would have surely killed them had they taken another step, and sure that it hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

****

There was a gigantic hole in the floorboards, like someone had ripped them up, leading to a black and solemn abyss below. It spanned across the entire hallway, blocked any attempt at passage.

****

The child took a few steps back, then halted. There was more thumping, like from before, but louder, slowly coming up behind them. Footsteps, they realized. They stood there, frozen with fear. This was it.

****

The footsteps stopped, and the child could feel someone or something standing behind them, practically breathing down their neck. They didn’t dare turn around, wanting to close their eyes but having forgotten how to move, how to think.

**  
“G u e s t. . .d o n ‘ t  y o u  k n o w  h o w  to  g r e e t  a  n i c e  h o s t?”**


End file.
